


Scaredy Cat

by casstayinmyass



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Kissing, Secret Relationship, They Both Just Secretly Want To Cuddle But They Gotta Stay Cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13296495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Greta and Patrick go on a date.





	Scaredy Cat

"So... when are you telling your dad about us?"

Greta Keene looked over at her boyfriend from where they were sitting in his car at the drive in. Patrick Hockstetter had about 5 inches on her, as he was taller than most teachers, and Greta was shorter than most other girls, always wearing a ponytail to make herself look taller than she was.

"Tell my dad?" she glared at him, "I'm not telling my dad, you fucking dummy. You've been suspended four times, one for vandalism, one for breaking a kid's nose, one for possession of coke-- which, how did you even get blow in Derry?!-- and one for torching the boy's bathroom with your stupid aerosol."

"Hey, don't call me a fucking dummy," Patrick scowled, "I wrote a long-ass essay about how the government manufactured Christmas in grade 7, and I passed math with a 64!" 

Greta gave him a look, then turned back to face toward the movie playing, a bad new horror called Clownhouse. Patrick loved horror movies-- Greta thought they were stupid. 

"Anyway, my dad will have an absolute bird if he finds out about us." She side eyed him, watching him dump the rest of the popcorn he'd been hogging into his mouth. "Don't your parents care about who _you_ date?"

Patrick stopped, considering this. "Well, my home life's not as fucked up as Henry's, but not as picturesque as Victor's or as homely as Belch's... so, I'd say parents' views on my love life are a healthy line between "good for you, you're getting laid" and "we could give a fuck.""

"Alrighty then," Greta muttered, stealing Patrick's root beer and finishing the contents. Patrick brushed off some kernels from his black Twisted Sister shirt, shaking out his shaggy hair for any crumbs left.

"Well then, if you won't tell your dad about me, then how am I gonna pick you up for the dance on Friday?"

"You're not, idiot," Greta snapped, "I'm going to ask Loser McDorkface to go with me, he's gonna come pick me up, and then I'm gonna ditch him for you when we get there."

"Can't wait to see him cry like the little bitch he is," Patrick snickered, then hesitated. "Wait... which one are you talking about? There's like, 7 of the little shits."

"The wheezer that always comes into my dad's shop." The blonde waved her hand dismissively. "Eddie Kas-something."

"Right," Patrick nodded, "But babe... he doesn't even drive! He has a lame-ass little kiddie bicycle, you gonna ride into the dance on that?" He continued to laugh spitefully, and Greta shoved him.

"Shut up, his mom will drive us then."

"You'd have more of a chance with his mom than him, babe," Patrick cracked up, and Greta rolled her eyes.

"You know I don't want anyone else but you." Patrick looked over, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip.

"Yeah?"

Greta bit her lip, straightening her pink scarf. "Yeah."

Patrick leaned in for a kiss, but she just stuck the straw of his drink between them, and raised an eyebrow as she sucked.

"Go get more popcorn, you finished the bag."

"Fuck," Patrick muttered, and got out of the black convertible, slamming the door shut. Greta used the time he was gone to re-apply her makeup in the mirror, lipstick and mascara, and made sure she looked as attractive as a 14 year old could look to her 15 year old boyfriend (who she totally told everyone else was 17).

She looked back up at the screen, and saw some girl in a shower getting murdered by a clown... she looked a little like Beev-erly, Greta thought with a smirk. If only-- but a killer clown running around Derry was about as likely as Eddie Kas-something ever losing his virginity. 

Suddenly, a hand closed around her neck, and she dropped her lipstick with a scream... as Patrick hopped into the front seat from the back with a shiteating grin.

"Scaredy cat!"

"You asshole!!" Greta growled, and Patrick just smiled at her, that dangerous smile that she got so infatuated by.

" _You're_ the asshole, you made me go back for more popcorn," Patrick retorted.

"Real nice, calling your girlfriend an asshole," Greta shot back.

"First of all, I'm not nice," Patrick said, holding up his thumb, then stick another finger up, "Second, I can't even meet your dad as your girlfriend, so what's the point in calling yourself that?"

"I thought you hated parents," Greta sighed.

"I do, they fucking suck, but I like to show you off," Patrick shrugged. He stretched a long arm around her again.

"So show me off around school," she muttered.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, "I just kinda wanna make it official... or something like that."

"Is Patrick Hockstetter, Derry's most feared, getting sentimental?" Greta put a mocking hand over her chest.

"Nah... I'm just glad to have someone to skip school with to watch Looney Tunes, someone who shares my love of arson, someone who tolerates my mullet rock instead of her synth pop..."

"In other words, nobody but me," Greta smirked, and Patrick nodded.

"Yeah. You're kind of a perfect babe."

"I know," she replied. He leaned in closer, and they shared a kiss for a minute, before she pulled away as his hand wandered up her leg.

"Baby, come on," he whispered, and she shook her head. They had an agreement- he wouldn't tell the school she was a virgin if she didn't tell anyone he had never been arrested, as he had everyone believe. "Why not?" he moaned.

"Cause I'm waiting for the night of the dance, it'll be perfect!" Greta replied, primping her hair, "Don't ruin our romantic first time."

"Not gonna be that romantic, sweetheart," Patrick grumbled. "I ain't throwing no damn rose petals all over my shitty futon so you can feel like the Queen while we do it."

" _Make love_ ," Greta corrected, and stuck her nose up, trying desperately to hide the fact that even talking about it made her nervous. Patrick, though he could be hard-headed, self-centered, and incredibly mean-spirited, knew how to read people, and he could tell how she felt about it.

"I mean..." he looked down, picking at a thread in his ripped jeans, "I guess I could poach a few roses from some old lady's garden and tear 'em up... maybe light a candle or two... you deserve that, at least."  
Greta looked over at this, and smiled a little.

"Really?"

Patrick looked up. "You deserve a whole lot of stuff." He smirked. "Especially after that sick trash-pelt you did to Beev in the girl's washroom. I heard about it from Belch, he said she smelled like rotten sewer!"

Greta grinned, her self-confidence returning as she popped a piece of bubble gum in her mouth. "Just reminding her of what she is. Trash." She blew a bubble, and Patrick took out his key ring, popping it.

"Hey... you look cute tonight, Gretsky."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm. Baddest guy in school gets the hottest girl in school, that's how shit works."

"Don't let Henry hear you say that," Greta retorted.

"Pfff. Listen up, Henry's not bad. He's a pussy. His old man sends him to bed without dinner and Henry's a pussy bitch about it. It's all for show, babe."

Greta shrugged. "I guess I chose the right bully, then."

Patrick grinned that lopsided smile, brushing Greta's hair behind her ear. 

"Diddo."


End file.
